


Sunday Morning After

by iamgizy (saddle_tramp)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-16
Updated: 2009-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-15 17:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddle_tramp/pseuds/iamgizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rating: PG-13 for language<br/>Pairing: Harry/Draco</p><p>Summary: Inspired by the Amanda Marshall song of the same name.</p><p>AU  -  In the war with Voldemort, the Trio found an unlikely ally. Draco Malfoy, who wanted to avenge his father's death at Voldemort hands, joined the Light. With his inside knowledge of Voldemort’s location, the Order was able to finally defeat Voldemort just before their Seventh year began. Draco acted as though nothing had changed and continued to be his normal snarky, obnoxious self until Harry and Draco met up at a party the day after they finally finished Hogwarts.</p><p>Note: Definitely some OOCness all the way around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning After

 

"This is a complete and _utter_ waste of time," Draco announced suddenly behind Harry, causing him to turn quickly to look at Draco in surprise.

Draco moved to stand next to him near the main doors to the Great Hall as he said scathingly, "I've seen better parties thrown out of the back of a bleedin' _lorry_."

Harry looked back towards their dancing classmates, absently straightening his black suit jacket for the millionth time as he resisted the urge to agree with Draco.

Dumbledore had been petitioned by the older Muggleborn students at school to allow a leaving dance, and the old quack had been only too happy to cooperate. He’d been quick to make the arrangements, from a special run of the Hogwarts Express a day late for the students remaining for the party to chaperones and parental consent forms. He had even secured the services of the latest craze in Wizarding pop music, the Wizardizer Bunnies.

Hermione, Ginny, Ron and most of Harry's other friends all adored the group, gushing over every new song they came out with, but Harry privately thought their music was a bit worse than listening to Dudley snore. Dudley had always been on the other side of a wall, therefore at least a bit muffled, and his pig-like snorts had never made Harry think of some sickly-sweet confectionary disaster. The Wizardizer Bunnies, on the other hand, reminded Harry quite a lot of a rather rich treacle tart he'd encountered not long after he first came to Hogwarts, before the novelty of being allowed to eat sweets had worn off. He'd eaten a whole plateful, raving the whole time over how wonderful it was, and then been sick all night and half the next day. He figured he'd finished his 'plateful' of the Wizardizer Bunnies about six months ago, and had cheerfully loathed them ever since.

"It's not _that_ bad, really," Harry protested finally, even though his heart obviously wasn't in it. "Just a bit boring, if you don't like this sort of music."

Draco snorted and gave Harry a disdainful sneer. "It's quite a lot worse than _boring_ , Potter." Draco looked out over the Hall as girls in bright, pretty dresses danced with boys in suits or dress robes, brushing back the side of his impeccable dove-grey pinstriped suit jacket to stick his hand in the pocket of trousers. "Next they'll likely lead everyone in a _rousing_ chorus of _Kumbaya_."

Harry laughed in spite of himself and then conceded, "They _are_ pretty dull, but most of the girls would have rioted if they got a decent band." He paused and watched the crowd a moment, then turned his attention back to Draco and added, "And at least it's not one of those American boy groups."

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Just what exactly do you consider to be decent music, Potter?"

Harry shrugged, looking out over the assembled students again and resisting the urge to smirk when he spotted Ron's bright red hair and saw that he was dancing with Parvati again. "I prefer rock music myself, something with a really good beat."

"Such as?" Draco asked, surprised.

"Siouxsie and the Banshees are always good, or Iggy and the Stooges," Harry replied with a quick grin. " _Real_ music, not this poppy stuff."

Draco smirked, his raised eyebrows making him look a bit startled. "Why Potter, I _never_ would have guessed. You actually _do_ have taste."

Harry laughed. "Yes, I do, but I notice you don't say whether you think it's good or bad."

Draco kept smirking at Harry a moment and then suddenly asked, "Why don't we get out of here? I know a little club in Glasgow that would be quite a lot more fun than this crowd." Draco gestured vaguely around the Great Hall.

Harry gave him a wary look. "Why would you invite me along?"

"Because you're _here_ Potter, and you have surprisingly decent taste in music," Draco replied, still looking out over the teens in the Hall with a decidedly superior expression. "Most of this lot would think Iggy Pop is some new sort of _dance_."

"Ron actually asked me if it was a sort of bubblegum once..."

"See? You've just proven my point," Draco replied, looking at Harry as he smirked again. "Come on Potter, it'll be fun. We can scream the lyrics of the more hateful songs at each other."

Harry laughed, shaking his head. "I don't think so."

" _Scared_ , Potter?" Draco asked with a challenging quirk of one eyebrow.

"I'm not afraid of anything you can dish out, Malfoy," Harry replied immediately, his green eyes flashing. "Lead the way."

Draco pulled his hand from his pocket and gestured towards the nearby door with a flourish, still smirking. "After you, Potter. By the time we get changed and down to the main gates, the club should be just getting into the swing of the evening."

Harry started towards the door quickly, grinning as they emerged into the much quieter hallway. He was actually looking forward to the trip, despite the fact he was going with Draco. "It'll be quite nice to go clubbing again,” he said aloud, “I've not been in ages."

Draco snorted. "Just make sure you change into something appropriate Potter, we're going to a _punk_ club."

"I'm quite sure I can come up with enough black leather to fit in." Harry smirked at Draco and then turned away, starting towards the main stairway. "I'll meet you out front in twenty, alright?"

"Very good," Draco agreed, walking briskly towards the dungeons.

Two people stepped out of the darkened alcove opposite the main stairs a moment later, both looking decidedly disheveled. They watched the boys go and then looked at each other with wide-eyed expressions of shock. Ginny, who had worn a tuxedo for the occasion despite many protests from her mother and brother, asked incredulously, "Harry and _Draco_?!"

"Surely not," Hermione replied, her eyes still wide as she smoothed the wrinkles from her deep red Muggle-styled cocktail dress. "They're just going to the same club, I'm sure. You know how Harry _hates_ the Wizardizer Bunnies, he would go dancing with _Snape_ if it would get him away from them."

"Mmm," Ginny agreed, looking towards the stairs as she ran one hand through her bobbed red hair, returning it to some semblance of order. "I wonder what _else_ he would agree to though? Malfoy's _quite_ the poofter, and I still say Harry's been leaning that way since Cho dumped him the last time."

"Harry's old enough to choose for himself," Hermione replied primly as she moved closer and wrapped one hand around Ginny's elbow. "It's none of our business. Let's go back to the dance."

Ginny shrugged and turned, leading Hermione towards the door to the Great Hall. "Alright love, but if no one can find him tomorrow, remember that _you_ said that."

Hermione's reply was lost in the rush of noise from the Hall as Ginny opened the door, and then the main corridor was silent and empty again.

 

* * *

 

Harry groaned as the curtains to the open patio doors across the room blew open and a sudden flash of bright sunlight hit his eyes. He turned his head to bury it against the warm, solid body laying face down in front of him, trying not to whimper at the flash of pain the sudden movement caused. His head was pounding out a rhythm that would have been quite at home in a dance club, and his stomach was roiling like a cauldron on high heat. An aborted attempt to get more comfortable revealed that he felt as though he'd pulled every muscle in his body, so he laid very still as he tried to clear his mind and waited for his stomach to settle a bit.

He didn't really recall much of the night before. The first few shots of tequila were clear, as was the club, which Harry had been surprised to learn was a Wizard-owned establishment. He had vague memories after that of really great music and dancing so he supposed it must have been a spectacular night. Draco had promised it would be when they talked about it on the way down to the main gates, and Harry had the vague feeling he owed him something, possibly tickets for a good show.

The awful metallic taste in his mouth made him fairly certain he'd been drinking excessively before he passed out on whoever it was he happened to be sleeping with. He’d barely had that thought when he suddenly found himself hoping the smooth, pale back under his cheek belonged to the redheaded Muggle girl he'd danced with early in the evening. Harry didn't remember the girl's name, but she'd had nice curves in all the right places and she had been quite a lot of fun. He was almost hopeful as he lifted his head carefully again, flinching at the pain in his head as he tried to blink away the sudden dizziness the movement caused, then his eyes went wide in shock.

Fred and George had gotten him drunk several times since he turned seventeen, but he'd still never had a hangover _this_ bad. He knew he'd been so totally pissed that he had forgotten a lot about the night before, but it was still a shock to see he'd slept with a girl with deep blue shoulder-length hair. He quite enjoyed punk-style rock music, yes, but he'd never actually slept with a punk until now. As he carefully pushed himself up to a sitting position, he found himself wondering if it had been any fun.

Harry took the opportunity to look over the body laying in the unfamiliar four-poster bed next to him, surprised to see how slim and androgynous the girl was. He usually went for curvier girls so he wondered just how he'd wound up with her until he pulled the sheet up a bit to look at the rest of her body. He grinned then and carefully twitched the sheet back further. Whoever she was, she had a spectacular arse and long gorgeous legs that quite reminded him of Ginny's, making him wonder if the girl might play a sport such as football. It was even more physical than Quidditch, so it only followed to him that a Muggle girl who was built anything like Ginny probably played football, since she would have to be extremely athletic.

Harry let the sheet fall to cover the girl as he swallowed again to get the metallic taste out of his mouth only to realize there was something in his mouth. He frowned, turning his head away from the girl to try and spit out whatever it was before his eyes went wide. He quickly raised his hand to feel of his tongue, ignoring the wave of dizziness that the sudden movement caused as he whimpered, feeling of his tongue and hoping he was imagining things.

Harry grabbed the end of his tongue, pulling it out as far as he could and crossing his eyes as he looked down at the shiny silver ball he could just barely see in the middle of it. He saw something move out of the corner of his eye then and let go of his tongue abruptly to move his arm so that he could look at his shoulder, his eyes going even wider.

"Holy shit!" Harry exclaimed, staring at the green snake tattooed on his arm, watching it coil up as if to strike. It blinked at him balefully and flickered its tongue as his head pounded even more forcefully, letting him know that yelling hadn't been a very intelligent thing to do.

The body next to him groaned then and a terrifyingly familiar voice said sleepily, "Shut the fuck up and let me _sleep_."

Harry yelled wordlessly and jumped out of bed, one hand immediately going to his head with a groan. He swayed and grabbed the nearest bedpost, fighting a wave of dizziness and nausea as he stared at the person it the bed.

"What the _hell_ is your problem, Potter?" Draco asked angrily, blinking sleepily as he turned to glare at Harry, his sleep-clouded grey eyes surrounded by smudges of dark mascara. "After I took you out on the town _and_ let you fuck me twice, the _least_ you could have done is let me sleep in!"

"I'm going to be sick," Harry said quickly, his hand moving from his head to cover his mouth as his expression twisted into one of extreme nausea.

"Not on _my_ bed you aren't!" Draco exclaimed, pointing behind Harry. "The loo's through there!"

Harry turned away without a word and stumbled through the open door, barely making it to the toilet before he fell to his knees and was rather loudly sick.

Draco made a face and climbed out of bed, muttering under his breath about rude awakenings as he went looking for his wand. As soon as he retrieved it from the leather trousers he’s worn the night before, he called an elf to clean up the clothes scattered all over his room. He walked towards a cabinet in the corner then, calling to Harry, "That's not a very nice way to say good morning, Potter!"

Harry just groaned and threw up again.

 

* * *

 

Draco was feeling inordinately pleased with himself, sitting comfortably in a padded wicker chair out on the patio as he watched a few brightly colored birds flit about the nearby trees. His chair was next to a wrought iron breakfast table that held a tray with a pitcher of chilled juice and two glasses, a plate of pastries, two wands, a folded newspaper, and Harry's spectacles. Draco's hair was back to its normal pale blond color, contrasting sharply with his deep purple robe that only fell to mid-thigh. He quite looked the part of a pampered aristocrat, and he knew it just as well as he knew that the sunshine made his hair almost seem to glow.

Draco put down his juice when he heard a door and turned to watch with a smirk as Harry walked slowly out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped securely around his waist. Draco thought that Harry looked rather delectable with his skin damp and flushed pink from what Draco would hazard a guess had been a scalding hot shower. Draco's smirk suddenly grew even more wicked; Harry was probably wishing he could scrub his mind, too.

Harry was still a bit green around the gills because of his pounding headache and lingering nausea, but he was feeling much more human after soaking under a very hot shower for nearly half an hour. He thought he might be ready to face Draco now, at least long enough to find out what had happened last night, though he didn't _really_ want to know. Shagging Draco wasn't something he wanted to contemplate very much, especially as unsettled as his stomach was, but he felt like he needed to figure out how this had happened.

Draco smirked and got up out of his chair, grabbing Harry's glasses off the tray before he walked quickly into his bedroom. "Good morning sweetcheeks!” he said cheerfully, “Enjoy your shower?"

Harry's eyes widened at the 'endearment' and he stopped, staring at warily Draco. "Not really..."

Draco's smirk didn't fade a bit as he moved to stand very close to Harry, sliding one hand into the pocket of his rather brief robe. He lifted the other hand to offer Harry his glasses as he asked insincerely, "Aww, were you _lonely_?"

Harry's expression shifted from wary to annoyed as he realized Draco was making fun of him. He took his spectacles, stepping back to put more distance between them as he put his glasses on. "No, I was not _lonely_ , I was _sick_. Repeatedly."

"Hopefully not in my shower," Draco replied as he wrinkled his nose, somehow managing to still look superior and amused. He pulled his hand from his pocket and offered Harry a small potion bottle. "Here, take this."

Harry took the bottle, frowning as he uncapped it and sniffed, asking, "What is it?"

"A Soberup potion," Draco replied as he turned away abruptly and then walked back towards the balcony. "I don't want you barfing all over my room."

Harry had decided that whatever was going on, Draco _had_ to have done it on purpose, so he watched Draco go with a distrustful look, making no move to take the potion.

After a few moments Draco sat back down and looked at him, then said impatiently, "If I wanted you _dead,_ I'd have killed you _long_ before I let you fuck me, dimwit. Drink it."

Harry looked at him another moment and then sighed and drank the potion, making a face at the taste. He lowered the bottle, very nearly holding his breath as he felt a spreading tingle, then he relaxed as first his nausea and then his headache went away.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly then, looking at Draco again to see he was sprawled inelegantly across his wicker chair. Draco had one knee hooked over the arm of the chair with his robe mostly open, giving Harry a glimpse of a firm belly and a narrow line of dark golden curls. Harry found the view surprisingly fascinating until he realized he was staring and blushed, quickly averting his gaze.

Draco smirked at him, shifting his leg to bare even more skin as he asked, "Like what you see, Potter?"

"No," Harry lied, shifting uncomfortably. He avoided Draco's gaze as he moved to the wicker chair across from Draco's and sat down, folding his arms on the edge of the table. "What did you do with my clothes?"

"You lost them in the poker game," Draco replied, still smirking as he enjoyed Harry's obvious discomfiture.

Harry gave Draco a shocked look. "But I don't know how to _play_ poker!"

"Yes, I know," Draco replied smugly as he folded his hands across his belly, "but you were so drunk you wouldn't _hear_ of sitting out the game. First you ran out of pocket money, and then you started to bet your clothes. When you ran out of clothes, you bet me that you'd get a Wizarding tattoo if you lost the next hand. You lost, naturally." Harry sighed and Draco's smirk became positively wicked as he added, "It was _exceptionally_ easy to talk you into getting a snake for the tattoo, but you've only yourself to blame for the tongue piercing. You said it looked fun and insisted on getting one while we waited for the tattoo artist. It was quite amusing to watch you wandering around the tattoo parlor in nothing but that thong you wore under your leather pants, both of which, by the way, are mine now."

Harry flushed, looking down at the table as he muttered, "Remind me never to go to that club again."

"Oh, no worries _there_ ," Draco replied cheerfully, "Davie was all for letting you enjoy yourself even _after_ you started dancing on the bar, but when a reporter snuck in and started taking pictures he decided you'd ruin his reputation. He made me take you home then and said he'd personally turn you into a toad if you ever darkened his doorstep again." Draco paused a beat, then added, "You made the front page of the _Daily Prophet_."

"Oh my God," Harry said, letting his head fall forward to land on his folded arms with a dull smack. "Kill me now, please."

Draco chuckled and swung his feet to the floor again, moving to lean across the table and pat Harry's shoulder as he said insincerely, "There, there Harry, you'll live it down someday. At least you were still wearing the thong when the reporter got there."

"I hate you."

Draco sat back in his chair again, smirking. "That's not what you were saying last night. You raved over my 'exquisite arse' in particular for quite a while."

"I'm straight," Harry said in a decidedly pouty tone of voice, not bothering to lift his head.

Draco laughed. "No Harry, once I might have believed was an experiment, but fucking me a second time proved you quite liked it." Draco paused a beat and then added, "I won't even mention how _very_ good you are at giving blow jobs. That tongue piercing was a truly inspired idea."

"I really, _really_ hate you."

Draco reached for his juice, smirking and looking insufferably pleased with himself. "I know."

 

~ End


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